


I'm letting go of what I had, living now and living loud

by distinguishedlike (orphan_account)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Photography AU, my first fic truly amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/distinguishedlike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian has to take a picture of something beautiful as a project for his photography class and he only takes pictures of mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm letting go of what I had, living now and living loud

It was 6:01 A.M. when Ian woke up, his head lolling towards Mickey by default, who was tracing small circles on Ian’s shoulder.

It had been a few months after Mickey couldn’t get Ian out of bed, he wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t talk to anybody, not Fiona, not Debbie, not Carl, not Mickey, he didn’t even want to see Liam. Mickey couldn’t handle it after a few days, he couldn’t handle the fact that his boy was hurting and he couldn’t do anything about it. Those weeks were a living hell for Mickey and he couldn’t imagine how it was like for Ian. After a proper diagnosis, treatment and medication, he was improving.

“I want to do something with my life,” Ian whispered so quietly that Mickey thought he was just hearing voices.

“What do you wanna do?”

“There’s a photography class,” Ian started slowly, “in the North Side. I think it’d be a good start.”

Mickey stayed quiet. Ian was instantly afraid that what he said was ridiculous. He had these kind of thoughts often, that every word he said was stupid, that every word that left his tongue would make someone turn against him. The idea of someone he loved leaving him or changing their mind about him ate him alive. He thought back to when he was confident in everything he said, how lax he was about what people thought of him. They don’t like me? Fuck ‘em. But now—now Ian couldn’t stop thinking about it. How people would judge him based on days when he wasn’t at his best, how people would think he was a horrible person. It consumed him. 

He wanted everyone he loved to stay, to not leave when they saw him during a bad day, crying and not getting out of bed. But Mickey stayed, he constantly reminded himself. Mickey stayed.

“Didn’t you used to do that when you were younger?” Mickey said, his voice breaking through Ian’s thoughts. “I mean, take pictures. D’ya really need a class for it?”

Ian couldn’t help but smile. When they were younger, he always thought Mickey ignored his every word. After every story Ian told, Mickey would roll his eyes and say, “Do you ever shut the fuck up, Gallagher?” (Which would be answered with a smirk and a, “Yeah. When I have your dick in my mouth.”) But Mickey never actually interrupted Ian’s stories, and he never told him he didn’t care.

“For creativity, probably.” Ian shrugged a bit. He still had Polaroids he took of Lip and a tiny trophy he won for his science project at the middle school science fair, pictures of Debbie, covered in frosting when she made her first cake, Carl before his last football game, a photo of Liam in a Spiderman costume for Halloween, Fiona in a black witch costume, holding his hand and laughing. The memories stayed with him, but those pictures were all faded now.

“I can take you to the North Side,” Mickey said, raising his head to look Ian in the eyes. “We can go shopping today for a camera after you apply for the class.”

Ian grinned slowly. “Thank you,” he said, sitting up and pulling Mickey onto his lap. He pressed his lips against Mickey’s, feeling Mickey’s hands wrap around his neck, pulling softly on his hair. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he muttered in between kisses, laughing into Mickey’s mouth.

He could feel Mickey’s smile against his lips.

***

Ian had been in the class for 2 weeks already, which meant Mickey was alone for about 3 hours a day. Which he was fine with, really, he just never really realized how boring it was around their house without Ian. So, yeah, maybe he missed him.

He also realized that he barely did anything all day. He sat on their beat up couch, ate some leftover pizza, and watched all the shows Ian pre-recorded for them to watch together. The whole time, though, Mickey couldn’t get Ian off his mind.

When Ian gets home, Mickey grins (it’s something he’s been doing more often. Still feels weird, though.) and hugs Ian tight, kissing softly him all over. Ian plays along, crouching down a little so Mickey can reach his face.

Ian laughs, loud and happy, as Mickey’s kissing his cheeks. “Did you really miss me that much?” he asks. “I was only gone for 2 hours.” Despite his words, his grip on Mickey’s waist tightened.

Mickey pulled back from Ian’s neck and scoffed. “No. I didn’t miss you at all, asshole.”

But Mickey knew that Ian knew he was lying.

”Alright,” Ian shrugged, smirking. He leaned down slightly, kissing the pout off of Mickey’s lips.

Then he grabbed Mickey’s wrists, pulling him towards the couch. “So, guess what my teacher assigned us today,” Ian said, giving Mickey a toothy smile.

”He assigned you to take nudes.”

Ian frowned as Mickey’s laughter. “No, perv. He wants us to take a picture of something we think is beautiful.”

Mickey snorted. “Sounds stupid,” he said, but he didn’t mean it.

Ian was happy and he was fucking proud of him. Mickey had set his favorite photo that Ian took as his laptop and phone background. Sometimes he even found himself talking about his Ian’s photography to his coworkers, to the point where they’d have to tell _him_ to shut the fuck up already. But, fuck it, Mickey had never been more proud of anyone in his whole life.

Later, while they watched dumb cartoons and passed an almost empty beer bottle back-and-forth, Mickey focusing intently on Spongebob trying to lift a stick with two marshmallows stuck on the ends (he was pretty frustrated with the fact that fucking Spongebob couldn’t fucking do it), Ian was busy snapping pictures. The places he aimed his camera at seemed random: the corners of the room, the TV, the window. He paused as Mickey’s frustrated yelling subsided and Mickey groaned and leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes fluttering closed.

Mickey heard the camera click and looked up at Ian. “Why the hell did you take a picture of me?” Mickey asked.

Ian shrugged. “You looked really nice.”

Mickey scoffed and rolled his eyes, his lips wrapping around the beer bottle as he tried to stop himself from smiling too hard. He hoped that Ian didn’t see him blush.

***

The sun was setting and the stars were almost shining in the pinkish, yellowish sky when Mickey realized he really needed a cigarette.

It was only a few minutes before Ian followed Mickey and sat beside him on the porch stairs, holding his camera in his hands. The wooden stairs creaked as he shifted next to Mickey and a big white cloud of air left Ian’s lips as he sighed.

”You should really stop that,” Ian said, pointing at Mickey’s cigarette. “It could kill you.”

Mickey usually had a smart remark ready for Ian, but he found himself nodding. “I know.” _I’m sorry_ , he added silently. His heart broke when he thought of Ian alone, without him. It broke even more when he thought of a world without Ian.

Ian looked down and fiddled with his camera, unaware that, next to him, Mickey was struggling to find the right words to say.

Ian smiled brightly. “This sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?”

”Take a picture of it, maybe you could use it for your project,” Mickey said, pointing at his camera with the cigarette.

Ian stayed quiet, his mouth twisting to the side, and shook his head. He got up, heading back into the house and leaving Mickey confused.

Mickey shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. He leaned his head forward, blowing out the smoke, when he felt the light of the flash from Ian’s camera.

Mickey was about to protest because, seriously, what was this fucked doing. But at the sight of Ian’s grin he decided to stay silent instead.

***

Mickey was drunk and loudly belting out the chorus of ”Diane Young” in their bedroom. Again. Ian couldn’t get that stupid moony look off his face as Mickey danced around stupidly.

” _If Diane Young won’t change your mind_ ,” his voice dropped, mimicking the pitch shift on the track, “ _baby, baby, baby, baby right on time!_ ”

”God, you’re a total dork.” Ian laughed as he lifted his camera to his face. He definitely needed to keep this as a memory.

He was whispering now, “ _baby baby baby baby… right on time, time, time, time, time… baby, baby baby, right on time_.” He gasped at the same time the lead singer did and then, at the top of his lungs, sand, “Nobody knows what the future holds!” He cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted, “ _And it’s bad enough! Just getting old!_ ”

Ian had already taken several shots of Mickey, but his favorite was when Mickey shouted out the last line, his nose scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut. Mickey was panting and grinning at Ian. “I sang that whole song!” he said, not realizing Ian had just finished snapping a photo. “I sang it and I didn’t mess up! You try that, Gallagher!” He laughed, crawling into Ian’s lap and kissing him sweetly.

It was a long night of boasting and singing Vampire Weekend songs before they actually went to sleep. Ian wouldn’t have even been surprised if they had gotten noise complaints.

***

Ian wakes up first to find Mickey with his head resting on Ian’s shoulder, snoring quietly with his mouth slightly open. He leans closer, breathing in Mickey’s scent, and exhales an, “I love you,” into his hair.

He rolls Mickey off of him carefully so he can make them breakfast, but pauses on his way out, his hand on the door frame, because he could’ve sworn he had heard Mickey say something back.

When he came back with coffee and pancakes, Mickey was still asleep. His hand was stuffed underneath his pillow, his bare thigh hugged the white sheets, and his chest rose and fell slowly. He set the mugs on the counter and the tray of food on the bed and reached for his camera, deciding this would be the final photo for his project. 

Mickey woke up to Ian is looking through all his photos, picking ten for his project. It’s not really a coincidence that all the pictures he pick are of Mickey.

Ian tore his gaze from the photos and looked at Mickey, who was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to stop himself from grinning at the way Ian’s looking at the pictures he took of him.

Ian’s grin was lopsided when he asked Mickey what he thought of the pictures he chose. “Fuck you for taking pictures of me doing stupid shit,” Mickey said, laughing softly as Ian’s arm wrapped around his body, pulling him close to his chest. Mickey let himself smile into Ian’s neck as he kissed him on the head.

Ian thought about how much time it took for Mickey to open up, to get comfortable, to not be afraid anymore. Ian thought about how there was nothing more beautiful than Mickey and the way he makes Ian’s whole body feel warm even in the coldest times.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is appreciated.  
> (also, this fic is inspired by [my post](http://nnoelfisher.tumblr.com/post/95499585848/very-important-things-ian-and-mickey-playing).)  
> my tumblr: [nnoelfisher](http://arnhanson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
